


Forever

by XxXxDarkVampirexXxX



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama & Romance, I don't know what else to tag, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, sex but not enough to be called smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-26 02:56:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16673392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxXxDarkVampirexXxX/pseuds/XxXxDarkVampirexXxX
Summary: He knew the kindness was a ploy at first, but it still felt nice. So even though he knew it was all insincere, Harry played along because the positive attention made him feel good. And then things changed. In the end, the betrayal made him stronger. It lead to happiness. For all of them. Slash fic!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! So here's yet another fic. Don't worry, this one won't be a WIP for very long. I've actually (surprisingly) already finished writing it. It's eight chapters long, the last one being an epilogue of sorts. Every chapter will be around the same length (around 1,200ish) words, save for the epilogue which is shorter. If you've read my fic 'A Scattered Dream', this is somewhat similar, with things being kind of quick and vague. I haven't been doing much writing recently thanks to my health, and wanted to get something out, not or you, but for myself, so this is what happened.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters...

When Harry woke in the morning, it took him a long time to remember what had happened the day before. But really, all he had to do was look at the naked body laying in bed beside him for the memories to come flooding back to him.

Bitter and irritated and angry, Harry had allowed himself to be seduced to the dark side. Really, it hadn't been all that hard. He'd just been so... _frustrated_  that he hadn't been able to bring himself to care about most anything, including the new visions Voldemort started sending him.

Those visions, disguised as lucid dreams, had been innocent enough. At first.

Voldemort had appeared to him in a more human-like form, looking like 'Diary Tom', only somewhat older. It was a far more pleasant sight than he usually was. He'd spoken to Harry kindly as well, advising him, consoling him, comforting him even. And Harry had let him, even despite knowing that that kindness was obviously fake.

It was a ploy, that kindness, but it still felt...nice. So even though he knew it was all insincere, Harry played along because the positive attention made him feel good. Made him feel a way he rarely allowed himself to feel-made him feel a way  _others_  rarely allowed him to feel.

But then things started to change. Voldemort found out about the Dursleys. It was entirely by accident, but he found out. Usually he slipped into Harry's mind to give him a vision at a specific time most nights, but  _that_  night, Harry wasn't asleep like he generally was when Voldemort made his mental visit.

It had been a bad day for Harry, everything that could have gone wrong that day  _had_  gone wrong, and Uncle Vernon had been absolutely  _furious_  with him-more angry than Harry had seen him in literal years. It didn't go very well for Harry.

Later that night, when Voldemort had brought him in another vision dream, he treated Harry... _different_. Harry didn't really know what that difference was, not at first, though he noticed that this difference persisted. And then he realized.

Voldemort's kindness was seeming a little more... _genuine_. He wasn't a hundred percent better or normal or anything, but he was...better. Better enough that it was then that Harry actually started actually  _looking forward_  to these encounters they were having, even if they were only taking place in their minds.

After that, they started to open up more-just a little at first, slowly growing more trusting of one another. It took some months, but eventually, and with only a slight amount of horror, Harry realized he could actually call Voldemort a  _friend_.

It really was a very strange idea.

When he came to that realization, things started to change even more. They became more open around one another, open and casual, not only with their words, but with their gestures and mannerisms too. It made them all the more relaxed around each other. But with that came even  _more_.

Certain things were exchanged between them, things that maybe shouldn't have been exchanged between enemies. Certain thoughts, certain words, certain touches. Vision dream encounters that had had a casual sort of friendliness, were now filled with a hesitant but growing intimacy. An intimacy that neither of them, surprisingly, even minded.

But none of this was happening in person. It was all only at night while they slept. When they woke in the morning, everything went back to what was supposed to be normal. Harry was just the Boy-Who-Lived and Voldemort was just the Dark Lord, and they were on opposite sides of the war. The war neither of them had talked about together since they had last considered one another enemies.

And they didn't anymore, not really. Others thought they still were, but they themselves knew that that wasn't true at all. They weren't enemies, but what they  _did_  consider one another as, they weren't quite sure. Or maybe they did and just couldn't admit it yet.

And then on Harry's seventeenth birthday, things not only changed, but finally came to a head. He was finally of age, finally able to use magic outside of school, finally able to make his own decisions. Finally able to leave the Dursleys and Privet Drive behind for good.

He had already packed up his belongings long before midnight, and had told the Dursleys that he was going to be leaving as soon as the clock struck twelve. They were  _very_  happy to hear that, and Harry meant it too. As soon as it was midnight, he made his way down the stairs, shrinking his trunk as he went. Then he bade the Dursleys good riddance and left Number Four for the very last time.

He wasn't surprised by what greeted him. There were Death Eaters standing out on the immaculate lawn. Robbed and masked, their wands clenched in their hands, they watched him. Their gazes were curious, but they didn't act. They had been ordered not to act-ordered not to speak to or attack Harry. They didn't understand why, but it was an order, and so they obeyed.

They knew they would be safe right now anyway. Not just from Harry, but the Order of the Phoenix as well, who had no plans to come here until morning. They-the Order, expected Harry to spend one final night with the Dursleys.

They knew nothing. They  _understood_  nothing.

And then one of the Death Eaters stepped forward slowly, cautiously approaching Harry. He wasn't sure who this was, but it didn't particularly matter. The man gestured for Harry to move away from in front of the door and, after a very brief moment of inner debate, Harry did so.

Silently, the Death Eaters filed into Number Four. Harry knew what was about to happen, and even though he had openly allowed it by moving, he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it. But he would think further on it later.

When all the Death Eaters had vanished inside the clean, lemon polish scented depths of the Dursleys' house, Harry was left behind with one final tall, cloaked figure.

Without a word, the figure held out their hand, and without a word, Harry accepted it. This moment right here sealed the deal. This moment right here told Harry that things  _had_  to change. This moment right here told Harry that there was absolutely no going back now.

He didn't want to either.

It took less than a moment for them to get to the place Harry was now going to call home. But Harry barely had the time to take anything in. He blinked, spotted dark wood, and was then pressed into the wall. Hungry-almost desperate lips on his had him releasing a muffled moan that was instantly swallowed and silenced by the other.

This was the first time they were actually doing this in person, kissing each other- _tasting_  each other. Harry's head was tilted back, the kiss deepened even further, and Harry gripped Voldemort's-gripped  _Marvolo's_  robes in his clenched fists, returning the fierce kiss with a desperation of his own.

It led to exactly what he had thought, had  _hoped_ -had  _wanted_  it to lead to.

He lay in bed, naked, blunt fingernails digging into Marvolo's back as the man finally,  _finally_  fucked him for real. They had done this countless times already in their mental encounters, and it wasn't as if those weren't real or anything, but this, right now, was  _real_.

And Marvolo was hovering over him, one of his large hands braced on the bed, the other fisting Harry's cock, giving Harry even more pleasure on top of what the cock buried inside him was already giving him.

Harry couldn't speak. Breathless and overwhelmed, the sounds leaving him were breathy moans and incoherent, ragged whispers of Marvolo's name. He clutched at him desperately,  _needing_  to come, and Marvolo, looking satisfyingly dishevelled, gritted his teeth.

Harry came first, a final stroke sending him over the edge he had been dangling over so precariously. Marvolo was directly behind him, burying his face in Harry's dark hair, a barely audible groan falling from his lips as he too finally let go.

For hours after that, the only sound to be heard in the room was the sound of relaxed breathing, all the tension and desperation and relief dissipating as Harry and Marvolo slept through the night peacefully.

As much as he hadn't wanted to admit it, Harry hadn't been seduced to the dark side at all. No, it was falling in love with the Dark Lord that had brought him to where he was right now.

And if he was being honest, Harry had no desire to be anywhere else at all. He wanted to remain where he was, at Marvolo's side. Forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Thank you to all readers so far!

"Harry?"

Blinking, pulled out of his thoughts, Harry turned his head so he could look at Marvolo, who finally seemed to have woken up. "Hmm?"

Marvolo regarded him closely, then raised himself up slightly on his elbows to get a better vantage point of Harry's face. "Are you feeling regret for what has happened?"

Regret? Slowly, Harry shook his head, though he said nothing at first, thinking and weighing his next words carefully. "I'm not regretting this- _any_  of this, but... What's going to happen now? I'm here, and I'm okay with that, but we...we never talked about what that really means for anything beyond just... _us_."

Nodding in understanding, Marvolo sat up in bed, looking down at Harry who still lay with his head on the pillow. "That is true, yes," he conceded.

And it really was. What had started off as another ploy to kill had turned into something so much more genuine and deep, something neither of them had ever thought to experience at all, let alone with one another.

They hadn't thought any of it through, maybe because they hadn't wanted to. They had always been on opposite sides, they knew that. They still were, in many ways. They could agree on certain things in this war, but not everything.

But they couldn't just... _stop_  any of this though. They couldn't just end things. They couldn't just allow everything to go back to how it had been before. They couldn't be enemies again. They didn't want to be either.

It was strange, and maybe it was even kind of wrong, but this was what they wanted. They wanted each other. They couldn't give that up. Not when they finally had this-this  _thing_  neither of them had thought they even deserved to have.

Could they do something to create peace? Peace between the Light and the Dark? Was that possible? Or would they truly have no choice but to battle until they came to death?

They didn't want to die-neither of them. Marvolo's greatest fear was death, it always had been. It was why he had done such horrible things to give himself some measure of immortality. Harry hadn't been frightened of death, hadn't even cared about living, and had honestly thought that death would be preferable. But now he had something that was making him genuinely happy. Something that was making him actually look forward to each day. He didn't want to die just yet. He wasn't ready for that anymore.

So what could be done to bring peace between the two sides-to  _everyone_? Was that something they could truly accomplish? Where could they even  _start_  with something like that?

"What do we do?" asked Harry, sitting up now as well.

Marvolo leaned down slightly, touching his lips to Harry's bare shoulder. "I...do not know," he said softly.

There was so much that they should have discussed beforehand. So much that they should have talked about and considered before committing to what they now had. But they had chosen the easy path and ignored it, and now they were left agonizing over it.

They had to figure something out...

* * *

"Do you think I could maybe tell Dumbledore?"

Marvolo hesitated visibly, and set his goblet back down on the table. The two were in the middle of having breakfast, both of them still considering what they could do about the situation they had found-no,  _put_  themselves in.

"I mean, shouldn't he be happy about this?" Harry continued. "He said love was the power you didn't know about-the power that would supposedly beat you, right?" Love was indeed what this was between them, even though neither of them had been able to say the actual word. "And now we can have the-the unity he said he's wanted, right?"

"Harry... I know you trust that man, and I understand why you do as well, but... I cannot say whether he will be pleased at hearing about this or not. He has never once cared for me-not as a child, not as a student, not as a man, and certainly not as a Dark Lord. He has always treated me as an enemy, since long before I even became one. I doubt he will be particularly pleased with your desire to...remain with me."

Harry's brow furrowed. "I don't care about that though," he said with a frown. "It doesn't really matter whether he approves or not, because no matter his opinion, it's my decision. I just mean-" He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, debating. "I think this is a good opportunity for us all to sit down and just...talk things out. More talking, less fighting. If fighting hasn't gotten either side anywhere, then maybe talking will help instead."

After a moment of tense and slightly awkward silence, Marvolo sighed. "Very well. If you truly believe telling Dumbledore will help settle things, then... Well, you always tend to follow your instinct anyway, don't you?"

So tell Dumbledore Harry did. He apparated to the Burrow, and there he met with the Headmaster and explained everything. He explained the new visions that had been given to him as dreams. He explained Voldemort's oddly kind behaviour. He explained how that behaviour later changed into something more real. He explained his own odd feelings, and the feelings Marvolo had described. He explained how he and Marvolo were trying to find a way to create peace for both sides. He explained all of it, leaving out only the more private details of things that had been said or done.

Dumbledore listened to him in solemn silence, and when Harry finally finished speaking, he smiled and told him how happy and proud he was for making this decision. For helping things change. Because this had happened, maybe everything could finally come to an end for good.

They talked, and thought, and agreed on a time and place for Dumbledore, Harry, and Marvolo to meet so they could really discuss everything properly, face to face, and come to an agreement on what needed changing and what could remain the same. They had so much to talk about. So much to fix.

Harry was beyond relieved to hear that. He wasn't sure why Marvolo had been so hesitant. Dumbledore seemed to be perfectly happy and willing to allow this to happen. He wanted the war to end too, just like everyone else.

Because this had to end. It  _had_  to. And Harry was sure that Dumbledore knew it would be idiotic to give up this sort of chance. If Voldemort himself was willing to offer peace, how could he possibly refuse that chance? How could anyone?

And Harry was pleased,  _so_  pleased that this could happen. Pleased that things would be able to come to a conclusion without bloodshed. Finally things would settle down. Finally everyone would be able to relax and live their lives without fear.

Finally they would be able to have peace. Maybe not forever, but they would have it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now. Again, I'll try to post the next chapter tomorrow. Comments? Kudos?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Thank you to all readers so far!

Everything went wrong. Harry wasn't sure why he had been naive enough to think a meeting for peace negotiation between the Light Lord and the Dark Lord would go well. Because it didn't. At all. Things went downhill as soon as they walked into the room.

The meeting was meant to have been for the three of them only-for Dumbledore, and Voldemort, and Harry. They were the key players in the war, and they were the ones who had to settle it. That was what they had decided.

But when Harry entered the room with Voldemort (Marvolo using his snake-like form because it made him more comfortable in this sort of situation), they quickly realized that Dumbledore had brought others with him-Moody and Kingsley.

They should have left then, they really should have. They hadn't even shut the door and already their carefully set rules were being broken. But they didn't. Harry  _insisted_  that it was alright-that Moody and Kingsley weren't going to attack Voldemort, and that Voldemort wasn't going to attack them.

Then the negotiations began, but the tension in the room was been thick enough to slice through. Harry couldn't help but feel like no one was actually listening to what he and Voldemort had to say at all. But Dumbledore talked. He talked a  _lot_.

Harry didn't really understand half of it, but he knew Voldemort did. The Dark Lord sat beside him, straight and tense, but his wand was out of sight-a promise he had made to Harry in an attempt to keep things civil. It was obvious that he was uncomfortable, incredibly so, but he cared for Harry too much to break the promise he had made.

Harry wished Voldemort  _had_  broken it. If it would have stopped what happened next, Voldemort could have broken any promise in the world and Harry wouldn't have cared.  _Anything_  to stop the nightmare that followed.

It was Dumbledore who acted first. Before they could blink, Dumbledore, in mid sentence, leapt to his feet, his wand in hand, his simple English words changing into a complex Latin spell. His wand came down sharply.

"No!"

But it wasn't Voldemort he attacked. It was Harry. Or it should have been, at least. Voldemort knew that spell-recognized it instantly, and half way through the incantation, he shoved Harry behind him roughly. He should have pulled Harry out of the way, really, but he hadn't thought that far ahead. All he thought was that he  _had_  to make sure Harry wasn't hit by the spell.

And he wasn't, though Voldemort was. Having taken Harry's place, it was Voldemort who suffered the cursed slashing spell. They tore through his robes, gouging into his skin, and the sound of pain that left him was something Harry continued to hear in his nightmares for years to come.

A battle broke out in that room. It was such a small room that left little space to manoeuvre, and so much of that room was already covered in blood.

So much happened in such a short amount of time that Harry couldn't even begin to process it. It wasn't until there was a flash of fire and a sharp cry that things began to settle, a deep silence descending.

Dumbledore was gone, Moody lay dead, Kingsley, injured, knelt in a corner, and Voldemort-

"Marvolo!" Harry had seen many injuries before, had suffered through a number of them himself, but this...

Marvolo (his glamoured snake-like appearance had fallen) was bleeding badly. Very badly. His robes had been slashed, and his chest was faring no better. There were so many slices, all of them deep and bleeding and, and-

Harry didn't know what to do. His mind was whirling. He was breathing too quickly, his heart was pounding in his chest, and his blood was rushing in his ears. He didn't know what to do.

"Harry."

Harry turned on Kingsley in a heartbeat, wand aimed at his face. Kingsley had a clearly broken arm, but he held the other one up within Harry's view. He was unarmed.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Harry." His dark eyes flickered over to Marvolo. "Either of you."

Harry didn't say anything. He wasn't sure if he could believe him. He wasn't sure if he could believe  _anyone_  anymore. Marvolo's injuries would have been Harry's if the man hadn't protected him. Dumbledore had tried to attack  _Harry_  with that horrible spell, not the Dark Lord. He had trusted Dumbledore, but he had-he had tried to kill him!

"I'm not going to hurt you," Kingsley repeated, his usual deep, smooth voice tinged with pain. "You need to get out of here."

"I'm not leaving him behind!"

"I'm not asking you to. Take him with you. Here-" Kingsley pulled out his wand, ignoring the way Harry tensed, leaned down, and tapped what remained of one of the table's legs. " _Portus_."

"What're you...?"

"A portkey. It'll take you to my house. You'll be safe there, but only for a day. There is a cupboard under the sink in the bathroom. There are potions and salves in there. Make use of what you need. The curse he was hit with isn't so bad that it can't be healed. It just looks worse than it is."

Slowly, Harry nodded. "Aren't you-?"

Kingsley shook his head. "I need to deal with this. I'll return home after you've left. Go now, before the others get here." He paused, then added, "I won't tell anyone where you are, but my house will be checked, so you can't stay there for too long."

Harry nodded again, made sure he had a good grip on Marvolo, and reached for the portkey. Just as he was being whisked away, he heard Kingsley's voice once more, as low and calm as always.

"For what it's worth, I think you're trying to do the right thing here, Harry."

* * *

As soon as he hit solid ground, Harry was on his feet again, rushing to the first door in his sight and throwing it open. He lucked out in that it just happened to be the bathroom, but he didn't think on it.

Heading directly towards the cupboard he had been told about, Harry's eyes scanned the inside quickly, searching for familiar looking flasks and vials and colours. Snatching things, he hurried back over to Marvolo and dropped down beside him, setting the healing items down a bit harder than he probably should have.

He used a spell to vanish Marvolo's robes, but now that he had an unobstructed view of the man's chest, his panic was only beginning to return. This looked really,  _really_  bad. Could he really heal this on his own?

Had  _Dumbledore_  really tried to attack  _him_  with this?

He needed water, and a washcloth-the water warm, the cloth clean. He obtained them quickly enough, and was back at Marvolo's side. Marvolo was unconscious. Whether that was due to blood loss or using too much magic at once, Harry wasn't sure. He didn't know which one was better either, if any of them even were.

Telling himself to just calm down and breathe, Harry began tending to Marvolo's wounds. He gently cleaned off the blood first, and when he had, he breathed out a sigh of relief. The cuts were still pretty bad, but not as much as he had been thinking now that all the blood was gone.

He was sure now that Kingsley had been right in saying these would be cured easily enough. Trying to remember everything he had learned over the years, Harry reached for the first of the potions...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to post the next chapter tomorrow, but I can't promise it this time. I have another doctor's appointment, and I'm always crazy anxious on those days, so posting will depend on how I feel once I get back home. If I don't post tomorrow, then it'll be the day after. Comments? Kudos?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Thank you to all readers so far!

Even after being healed, Marvolo remained unconscious for a few hours. Harry, with the use of a spell, managed to get him onto the couch and, making sure he was laying comfortably first, used that time to clean up the mess that had been made thanks to them.

He was finally starting to calm down, and thanks to that, his brain was beginning to process what had happened at last.

It had been a trap, he realized. A trap for them, set up by Dumbledore. But why? Why had he done that? He had seemed pleased to have peace between them. He had been eager to negotiate. He had even seemed happy that  _Harry_  was happy.

But it was Harry he had tried to attack first, not the Dark Lord. Had he really tried to kill him, or had he known he would be protected? Really, it didn't matter either way! It was a horrible, atrocious thing to do-at a peace negotiation of all places!

So why had he done it? And where had he gone? He had used Fawkes to escape, but where was he now? What was he thinking? What was he planning? Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know.

* * *

Marvolo woke seven hours later. He was tired, sore, hungry, and utterly furious. And then he saw Harry, fast asleep in a rather awkward position on the floor, his head resting on the couch by the man's thigh.

As soon as he saw him, Marvolo began to relax. Harry was safe. That was good. What had happened on the other hand, well, that was anything  _but_  good.

He knew he had been right in being suspicious. He had never trusted Dumbledore before, and hadn't particularly been prepared in doing so now, but he had gone along with it all because it was what Harry had so desperately wanted. And Marvolo wanted Harry to be happy, even though he didn't quite understand all of his own feelings on the matter.

Seeing Moody and Shacklebolt there should have been warning enough, but he had allowed himself to be assuaged by Harry. But things had still gone wrong, and he was cursing himself for lowering his guard too much.

He sighed heavily, then winced and touched his chest, looking down. His wounds had been healed, by Harry no doubt. There wasn't even a single scar to be seen on his skin, but the area was still a little painful, particularly if he breathed very deeply.

He got off the couch carefully, before picking Harry up and setting him down on the couch instead, wincing slightly as the movements pulled at his chest. But once Harry was laying more comfortably, he left him sleeping, instead turning his attention to their surroundings.

It looked to be a house. It didn't seem particularly large, with there being only a single bedroom and bathroom, along with a small kitchen and sitting room. He couldn't tell whose house it was, because there didn't seem to be very many personal touches, but he thought he could safely assume a single man lived here.

He wanted to leave. Immediately.

Making his way back to Harry, he woke him up, silencing him before he could voice his concern or relief. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear any of it-he just wanted to leave this house as soon as they possibly could.

Rougher than he probably needed to, he grabbed hold of Harry and disapparated out of the house.

He did so just in time. Though Marvolo and Harry didn't realize it, mere seconds after they had vanished, the door to the house was all but blasted open, Order members rushing in, despite Kingsley's calm reassurances that they would find nothing at his house...

* * *

Harry had barely caught his breath when he had to twist around to catch Marvolo, who was sliding to his knees, clutching his chest. "Marvolo!? Dammit, you shouldn't be doing something like that! I could have brought us here myself!" Worried and angry at once, Harry tried to move Marvolo's hands so he could get a look at his chest.

"It's fine. I am fine. The pain is not so great."

Harry very nearly rolled his eyes. "Yeah, the pain isn't so bad-just enough to send you to your knees, is all."

"Harry-"

"Stay still." Harry ran the diagnostic charm over him again, but it didn't tell him much of anything. That was actually good though. It probably just meant it was a lingering ache worsened by Marvolo straining himself too much. "You need rest."

"I have slept enough," said Marvolo, pushing himself to his feet.

"Mar-"

"I must settle this, Harry. Dumbledore and those damned Aurors of his. I-" he broke off, unable to mask a pained wince.

Fighting not to yell, Harry merely shook his head, placing his own hands on Marvolo's chest as he looked up at him. "Moody's already dead, and Kingsley's on our side. He's the one to helped us get away-that was his house we were in, and it was his potions and salves I used to heal you. He thinks what we're doing is right, and I think he might even help us. As for Dumbledore... You can't settle things with him if you can barely stand."

Marvolo regarded him closely, and when he saw the determination in those expressive green eyes, sighed inaudibly. Harry was right. He was in no condition to do anything right now. He had to regain his strength, and the only way he was going to be able to do that was to rest.

So he inclined his head in acceptance, and allowed Harry to lead him through the halls and up the stairs, and to their room, and into bed. But Harry didn't leave his side, instead sliding in beside him, curling up close by.

Marvolo knew why-could  _feel_  why. Harry was scared. Scared of what could have happened, scared of what  _had_  happened. It was Marvolo's immortality that had kept him alive, but if that spell had hit Harry instead...

They were actually fortunate with the outcome. But fortunate or not, and though neither of them really understood it, it seemed clear to them that Dumbledore had shown them his true colours.

No matter who did it, even if it was the Boy-Who-Lived himself, siding with the Dark Lord Voldemort in any fashion made them deserving of death. That was their assumption, considering what had happened. As it turned out, that assumption was correct.

As Harry and Marvolo slept, word of the Saviour's betrayal was beginning to spread rapidly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now. The next chapter should be up tomorrow. Comments? Kudos?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Thank you to all readers so far!

When Harry woke, he expected the bed beside him to be empty and cold. He expected for Marvolo to have long since woken and left the room so he could begin planning his revenge. But that wasn't the case.

Marvolo was still beside him, and was, much to Harry's relief, still sleeping. He was glad for that-glad he was getting more rest. He needed it desperately, Harry knew.

He should have just left him alone and let him sleep, but...Harry was selfish too. He wanted to get closer to Marvolo. Closer than they were right now, laying side by side. He wanted to get as close as he possibly could. He  _had_  to.

He shifted, moving to straddle Marvolo's long, lean body, and with a spell, undressed them both. Marvolo woke instantly, but he didn't move. Blinking slowly, he watched Harry with tired but surprisingly alert eyes, though more than just his eyes was coming to attention.

Neither of them said a word. Impatient, Harry used a spell to prepare himself. He didn't actually like using the spell very much-it was never as good and left things a bit more painful than if it was done manually, but right now Harry didn't have the patience for that. He  _needed_  Marvolo inside him.

And Marvolo knew that too. His hands came to Harry's hips, and in silence he helped Harry raise himself up, breath stuttering slightly when Harry took him in hand, then catching in his chest when Harry sank down slowly.

It was Harry who set the rhythm, keeping it slow and steady, rising and falling, jerking his own cock off as he rode Marvolo. Marvolo's own hands roamed, straying from Harry's chest, to his hips, to his thighs, and back up, enjoying the feeling of Harry's over him-around him.

Was it strange that this was making them feel more restful and relaxed than sleeping had? They weren't sure, and they supposed it didn't particularly matter either way.

* * *

Unfortunately for them, their relaxed state didn't last very long at all. In fact, the second they caught sight of the front page of the Daily Prophet barely an hour later, every thought of resting and relaxing left them both instantly.

_'Harry Potter Joins You-Know-Who!'_

Harry scowled. Dumbledore was the one behind this, he was sure. Moody was dead, which meant he couldn't have said anything, and he doubted Kingsley had. That left only Dumbledore and really, at this point, that wasn't even surprising.

They didn't bother reading the article, knowing it was just going to be filled with bilge anyway. But there was another article that caught their attention. A small article that spoke of the mysterious death of Auror Shacklebolt.

Harry froze, his heart leaping into his throat. Kingsley was dead, killed in his own house. Dumbledore must have found out that Kingsley had helped him and Marvolo, and either had him killed or killed him himself because of it. Because of  _them_. Harry barely moved when Marvolo took the newspaper away from him, tossing it aside before he brought Harry into his arms.

"He...knew what he was doing, Harry," said Marvolo slowly. "He knew that aiding us could have lead to this happening to him. He was aware of it, Harry. Of that I have no doubt." Marvolo was good with words, yes, but offering sincere consoling words was still very new to him.

But Harry understood the intention behind his slightly clumsy wording, and nodded slowly. "Is Dumbledore really that desperate?" he said quietly. "It seems like he's not even waiting to hear explanations anymore. Kingsley helped us, yeah, but was that really enough to warrant his death?"

"We can make use of that desperation," said Marvolo. "When people grow desperate, they become irrational-they make mistakes. I can promise you that right now, we are not the only ones questioning Dumbledore's recent behaviour, and I am not only speaking of Dark members. I expect you will be contacted soon by some Light or Order members who will wish to hear your side of things because they are growing uncomfortable with what their Leader is beginning to do."

It turned out that Marvolo had been right. Barely two hours later, Harry walked into the entrance hall, only to end up getting assaulted by a pack of owls.

"Whoa! What the-? Calm down!"

The owls obeyed, calming down and approaching him one by one, allowing him to take their post before flying off, until only an exasperated seeming Hedwig was left behind. Harry shared her sentiments, and took the envelope she was clamping in her beak before she too headed off.

Scanning over the many letters, Harry supposed he wasn't surprised to see who they were all from. This was the first time he'd heard from any of them since he had gone to the Burrow to speak to Dumbledore some time ago. He had been wondering whether they were at all concerned about where he was staying now.

The original plan had been for Harry to head to the Burrow on his seventeenth birthday, and then move into Grimmauld Place, and fix the place up so it was better for human habitation. But then he'd ended up going with Marvolo instead, and had moved into Riddle Manor with him.

He'd been asked at the Burrow that day, but all he had told them was that he was somewhere safe, somewhere that wasn't Grimmauld Place, but that he didn't have the time to explain-though that had mostly been because he hadn't been sure  _how_  to explain when he hadn't really put any thought in what he'd been doing anyway.

Regardless of what they had been thinking before, they all seemed to be thinking the same thing right now. They had heard about the 'peace negotiation meeting' from Dumbledore. But what they had been told wasn't the truth.

Everyone in the letters said that Dumbledore had returned to them all, telling them that Harry had arrived with Voldemort at the meeting. That was true-Harry had no problem with that. He was also saying that Voldemort had killed Moody, which was probably also true. But he was making no mention of him-Dumbledore, having been the first one to attack, and attack Harry, at that, and that all Voldemort had done was defend himself and Harry.

Dumbledore was blaming them. He was saying that Voldemort had attacked him first, and that Harry had helped him, and Moody had ended up dead. He was claiming that he wasn't sure what had happened to Kingsley, but was sure Voldemort and Harry had something to do with his death.

But to Harry's pleasure, his friends knew him better than that, and were sure that they were being lied to. They weren't really sure what exactly the truth was, but they were sure that what Dumbledore was telling them wasn't entirely correct.

That was why they were writing to Harry now. They wanted to know the truth. They wanted to know what had happened in his own words. And they were smart enough to realize that Harry was going to be hesitant to meet with anyone in person right now, so letters would do for the moment, unless he thought of a better way to communicate with them.

Harry was actually really glad that they seemed to be understanding. But at the same time, he had thought the same thing about Dumbledore, and that hadn't ended particularly well, had it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now. I'll post the next chapter tomorrow if I can. Comments? Kudos?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Thank you to all readers so far!

Marvolo was actually more open minded to informing Harry's friends about the truth than Harry was. He was happy to possibly get more people on their side, something that would be easier if these people were already on Harry's side, and in his opinion, none of them would be more of a threat than Dumbledore. Although, to be safe, he declared that they would meet them one by one, rather than all at once.

He would not risk another ambush, and Harry agreed. So he wrote back to his friends, sending the letters with Dobby, just to be on the safe side, and agreed on dates and times and places to meet everyone.

This time Harry and Marvolo both agreed that if more than just the person who they were supposed to meet showed up, they were just going to leave. It didn't matter who they were or how much Harry trusted them.

So that was what they did. One by one, they met all of Harry's friends, and they explained the situation-what had led Harry into doing what he had, what Voldemort (he was in his glamour again) thought, what had happened during what had meant to be a peace negotiation.

Ron, Hermione, Remus, Neville, Luna, Ginny, Bill, Charlie, Tonks, Fred, George-they met and spoke to all of them, and in the end, every one of them agreed that Harry was in the right.

Maybe they didn't agree one hundred percent with what Voldemort wanted-Harry didn't either, for that matter, but they were finding that they were agreeing even  _less_  with what Dumbledore was doing. Killing Kingsley for helping, and attacking  _Harry_? What was he  _thinking_?

There was so much that didn't make sense, but they were all agreeing that even if some of what Dumbledore wanted was good, Dumbledore himself had to be taken out of the picture soon, because he was seriously starting to lose it. But what they could do to take advantage of that, they weren't sure just yet.

They knew that they wanted to confront him, though Marvolo and Harry couldn't agree on what they wanted to  _do_  during said confrontation. Marvolo, unsurprisingly, wanted to kill, while Harry wanted to question. He wanted to know what Dumbledore was thinking. He wanted to know  _why_  he was doing what he was.

But no matter their opinions on what to do, they knew a direct confrontation without some sort of planning and preparation was going to be a terrible idea. And this time they had to make sure their plan was flawless. They couldn't let their guards down around Dumbledore. Neither of them. Not again.

So they started planning.

* * *

The sight that greeted Severus Snape when he walked into the so dubbed 'war room' three and a half months later, had him stopping in his tracks. There were Death Eaters in there, as expected, but there were also people he had thought to be Order members.

Hermione Granger, Ron and Bill Weasley, and Remus Lupin were standing at a table with Lucius, the five of them appearing to be in the midst of a deep discussion. The Weasley twins were at another table in a corner with the Lestrange brothers, the group leaning over something lain out across the table that the oldest of them was performing some sort of spell on. Neville Longbottom, Ginny and Charlie Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks, and Luna Lovegood were all over at the largest of the tables with Bellatrix and Narcissa, this group too clearly hard at work.

Things were already strange enough as it was, in Severus' eyes, and were only made even stranger when yet another two entered the room from its second entrance, this one the strangest pair yet.

The Dark Lord (in his real, more human like form) entered the room with none other than Harry Potter at his side. Like the others, they too were in the middle of an important looking discussion.

Severus wasn't quite sure what to think about any of this, his mind working rapidly to process everything he was seeing. It didn't take him long to understand.

This was what was being hidden from him. He had known for a while now that there was something strange happening in terms of the war. Like everyone else, he had, of course, heard of Potter's supposed 'defection' from the Light, but he actually hadn't believed it (mostly because he had never actually seen Potter here in the Dark Lord's manor before), even if Dumbledore had been the one to tell him that.

He hadn't believed it because Potter was, well, Potter-the epitome of a Light loving Gryffindor. But of course, he had been wrong, and had simply allowed poor judgement to cloud his vision. Again.

It seemed Potter truly had joined the Dark, or at least the Dark Lord, and evidently, he hadn't been the only one. He had brought his friends with him-all the friends Severus had also never expected to join the Dark.

And he hadn't been told about any of this because he hadn't been trusted, Severus realized. Or perhaps he hadn't been told because he  _was_  trusted. They all knew what had happened to Shacklebolt when he had aided Potter and the Dark Lord in escaping. Perhaps the Dark Lord hadn't wanted to risk the same thing with him, as he was the only spy he had in the Order, all of these other members having 'defected' as well, uncaring of what others had to say about it.

Unsure of which option was correct, Severus made his way through the room in silence, catching bits of conversation from the tables he passed, but unable to make head or tails of them.

"Oh, hullo, Snape."

"Ah, Severus, I am pleased to see you here."

"My Lord. ...Potter. You summoned me?"

Marvolo regarded him closely for a moment, though Severus didn't sense the man entering his mind, which was actually slightly strange. "Yes, I wish for you to join Lucius' group over there. They have plans that you can aid with, I believe. They will further inform you on what they are doing."

"As you wish, my Lord." Severus waited for Potter to speak, but the boy remained silent, simply watching him quietly. A little unnerved by that, Severus bowed slightly and then moved over towards the table where Lucius' group was.

He was greeted as always by Lucius and Lupin, and surprisingly cordially by Granger and the two Weasleys, but he decided it would be better not to question any of it and simply listened intently to the plan they had come up with.

This truly was as strange as he had thought when he had first stepped into the room...

* * *

"What do you think?" Harry asked Marvolo quietly.

Marvolo's gaze passed over the three groups spread throughout the room. "Things are moving along, but I feel it may still take some time before we are finally prepared to end it."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Most of the arguments between the groups have finally stopped, at least, but...some of them still can't seem to get along." He inclined his head towards where Bellatrix and Tonks had just begun fighting. "And the plans aren't terrible, but they definitely still need lots of work if we want to get past Dumbledore."

Marvolo sighed softly, and dragged a hand through his hair in a rare movement of agitation. "This is taking longer than I expected. Dumbledore is growing stronger."

"He isn't though," Harry protested. "Nearly all of his strongest members are either dead or on our side. The strongest people he's got left are McGonagall and Hagrid, really, both in different ways. Other than that he's got the other three Weasleys, and what?-Vance? Diggle? The Order of the Phoenix is less of a threat than you think it is. It's Dumbledore himself that we have to worry about, and he knows it too. Snape's said Dumbledore's becoming more paranoid, hasn't he? Dumbledore knows we're going to come after him."

Marvolo blinked, a little surprised. Harry had changed after the incident at the 'peace negotiation'. He was still Harry, of course, but when it came to Dumbledore and the war, he had grown somewhat cold. He wanted it over, by any means necessary, even means he would never have considered before.

Dumbledore had broken Harry's trust, and that was perhaps the gravest mistake the old man could have ever made, because Harry was never going to forgive him. Instead, Harry wanted him out of the picture completely, never able to interfere again.

This was one aspect Marvolo and Harry had never been able to agree on before. But now, after what had happened, Marvolo was no longer the only one who wanted Dumbledore dead. Harry wanted that too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today. Next chapter should be up tomorrow. Comments? Kudos?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Thank you to all readers so far!

It took them almost a year to finalize their plans. They didn't want to leave any openings or loose threads that Dumbledore or the idiots who still believed in and fought for him could use to escape.

This war had to end, and Harry knew  _they_  had to be the ones to end it. There was no other choice here. Maybe he and Marvolo still didn't agree on everything, but Dumbledore and the Light had to be dealt with first. They would figure out what to do beyond that later.

But now, after a lot of careful planning, they were sure they were ready. All that remained was to lure out their opponents. But that wasn't going to be all that hard. Harry decided he would take care of that himself (though it took a while to convince Marvolo).

Harry called out Dumbledore. Called him out in a specific place at a specific time, demanding answers. Answers he claimed he deserved to have. It was a very loud, very public calling out, that was quickly mistaken as him losing his temper again.

No one seemed to suspect a hidden plot of any sort, which Harry found to be genuinely surprising. A hidden plot was the  _first_  thing  _he_  would have suspected if the roles had been reversed. But maybe that was just his cynical Slytherin side talking. Yeah, that was probably it.

Harry and Hermione had had many a few discussions about how people in the wizarding world seemed to be lacking any sense of logic, and it now seemed that Dumbledore could be added to that group, because he fell for Harry's trap before the day had even ended.

Sooner than expected for sure, but not too soon that it was going to ruin any of their plans. This was a good thing, actually. The quicker they could finish this, the better.

* * *

Harry, Voldemort at his side, stood face to face with Dumbledore. For a long moment, no one spoke. And then movement broke out around them, Death Eaters and friends acting before the Order members could.

Spells were cast, potion vials thrown, and bodies quickly began to fall, some dead, most unconscious. And during all this, the three at the centre of everything remained still and silent, not taking their eyes off one another.

Dumbledore only moved when he saw McGonagall fall, but he didn't get to go very far before he was forced to stop. A barrier was erected around the three, courtesy of Bill, Lucius, Fred, and Rabastan, the four standing on all four sides of the translucent wall while the others guarded their backs.

Harry, Voldemort, and Dumbledore were trapped within the barrier. No one could walk through the wall, whether it be to enter or leave, until the four dropped the spell at the same time, or Bill, the barrier's main holder, died.

"So it appears as if I am the final Order member remaining," said Dumbledore calmly. He stood across the other two, his wand in hand and an irritatingly familiar smile on his face.

Voldemort raised his own wand in turn, his jaw clenched, but Harry set a hand on his arm, stopping him from acting, green eyes locked on the old man.

"Not yet," he said quietly. "I need to know." He raised his voice slightly. "Why did you do it?" he asked.

"Do what, Harry?"

"Don't play the idiot, Dumbledore. It doesn't suit you. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Voldemort was offering peace- _we_  were offering peace. The peace and unity you've always said you wanted. So why did you ruin it? Why did you destroy that chance?"

At first, Dumbledore said nothing. He just looked at Harry in silence, as if he was appraising him. He then peered out through the barrier at those who remained standing, and those who were littered over the ground, alive and dead both.

"You haven't noticed it yet, have you, my boy?" he said finally, breaking the silence. "You are being used-deceived, manipulated. Tom has made promises to you the same why he has to countless others, forcing you to swear your fealty to him and his side alone. He has turned you against us."

"No," said Harry calmly, "he hasn't. He hasn't promised me anything, and he hasn't forced me into anything. I'm here, standing at his side, because I want to. Because I finally realized that this is where I belong."

"But that is only part of his ploy."

"Maybe it was, at one point," Harry conceded. "I know and can accept that. But things change, Dumbledore- _people_  change. We didn't agree on all points, and maybe we never will, but we've changed. Both of us. The only one doing the lying and manipulating here right now is you. And no one's falling for it any more."

Dumbledore said nothing, but the expression on his face was one of vague disappointment. Harry, practically able to feel Voldemort's impatience growing, continued on, wanting to say everything he needed to get off his chest before the fighting began. Before it was too late to get the answer he was seeking.

"I just can't help but wonder, Dumbledore... Do you really actually  _want_  this war to end? Or do you want it to continue until you can get as many people siding with you, and as much power as possible?"

"Of course I wish for the end of the w-"

"Or do you just want to kill Voldemort yourself and get all the glory, just like with Grindelwald?"

A flash of emotion passed through Dumbledore's eyes. A flash of fury. Saying nothing, he raised his wand up, and brought it slashing down. At the same moment, no doubt having expected the outcome, Harry erected a strong magical shield in front of him, negating the brunt of the attack.

"Not this time, Dumbledore. Not again. You're never going to hurt anyone ever again." Harry vanished the shield, looking satisfied. "Either way, it looks like I got my answer. I guess you don't like hearing Grindelwald's name much, do you?" Eyes still locked on Dumbledore, Harry began to step back. "I'm done here."

"Har-"

"Avada Kedavra!"

The incantation sounded just as the barrier came crashing down in a wave of thick magic, releasing a bright flash of blinding light and a sound almost akin to a booming clap of thunder.

Maybe it was the killing curse, or maybe it was the barrier falling so violently, or maybe it was even the Hedwig-Errol tag team dropping a brick onto his head, but with little resistance or fanfare, Dumbledore fell right there in the middle of the cobblestone street of this otherwise bustling alley.

It was there that things finally came to an end. It wasn't as violent as people had been expecting, it wasn't as deadly, it didn't have as many casualties or even injuries, but it ended the way the Dark had planned-with very little bloodshed.

They were tired of fighting and they were tired of death. If there was no chance at all of him escaping, they probably would have simply had Dumbledore imprisoned the same way Grindelwald was. But they couldn't risk it. Not with him. Grindelwald admitted his defeat. Dumbledore would never do the same.

And with the light and sound the barrier made as it fell, no one really knew who had cast out the fatal killing curse. Maybe it was Voldemort, finally managing to defeat his long standing enemy. Maybe it was Harry, granting a swift death to the man he had once considered a grandfather. Maybe it was Severus, having had enough of being forced to play both sides. Maybe it was someone else altogether, or everyone all at once.

No one knew who had done it, and whoever it was didn't bother confessing to it, but it was done, and now they could say the war was finally, mercifully, over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now. I'll post the next (and last) chapter tomorrow. Comments? Kudos?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! So here's the last chapter! This fic actually started off as a oneshot, with the first chapter being all I wrote, but when I went over it again I felt like it needed something more, so I thought of adding another chapter or two. And then I kept writing and the result was this fic. Thank you to all readers! Comments? Kudos?

While news immediately went out about Dumbledore's death, it took a surprisingly long while before things actually began to change. Perhaps not every change was for the better of  _all_  people, but most were, and for a great many previously oppressed groups, things were made infinitely better than before.

So many people had expected obvious, dramatic changes when they learned that Voldemort had won the war and taken over, but in reality, many of the changes were quiet and subtle. Few had to change anything about their lifestyles, most of the changes occurring in the law.

Harry's friends, the people he considered family, mostly went back to their old lives, resuming their jobs or taking new ones in some cases, growing closer to one another, meeting new people, even getting married. They all seemed to be so happy now that things had finally calmed down.

Harry really wasn't any different. He studied for a bit, under some very helpful Death Eaters, and then soon after, returned to Hogwarts not as a student, but as a professor. Even with all the not so pleasant things that he had gone through at the castle, Hogwarts truly was his home. Plus, Marvolo was there too, so that was nice.

Harry learned and taught and chatted and planned and marked during his days, while his nights were spent in the calm, peaceful sanctuary that was the private quarters he and Marvolo shared.

With the war over, they too finally had the time to really get to know one another. To talk, and touch, and just be  _together_. Whether they were sitting on the couch reading, or sharing the bath, or sleeping in bed, just being beside each other filled them both with peace.

A peace and serenity neither of them had ever thought they deserved, let alone would actually be able to attain.

They didn't need to marry, they knew. They were already bonded together-through magic, through so much more. Everyone around them already considered them to basically be married regardless.

They were a family anyway. Marvolo, and Harry, and Nagini, and Hedwig-they were their own odd little family, and that was just the way they liked it. Maybe there would be additions to it, since Harry had always wanted a cat, and a snake, and a dog, and a rabbit, but for now they were content as they were with just the four of them.

And today, Harry was even more pleased than usual. Summer break had officially started, students and professors alike returning to their homes, and Marvolo had wasted no time at all in dragging Harry through their manor, up the stairs, and into their bedroom.

Tumbling down onto the bed with a joyful laugh, Harry took his glasses off, set them aside, and then reached up for Marvolo with a smile. Shirt undone, Marvolo accepted the hands reaching for him, allowing himself to be pulled down onto the bed, shifting without thought to straddle Harry as he leaned in closer.

When Harry hummed into the kiss, Marvolo pulled back slightly, a small smile of his own visible on his lips. "Are you happy, Harry?"

Harry grinned cheerfully, leaning into the large hand cupping his cheek. "I am. Very happy. Happier than I feel like I've ever been."

Happier than he had ever thought he would be. Happier than he had ever thought he deserved to be. And Marvolo was happy too, he was sure. Happy with what they had accomplished. Happy with what they had. Happy with what they were.

It was a happiness that they deserved to have. Forever.

_FIN_


End file.
